


god-touched

by straddling_the_atmosphere



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Other, and other gods but those are the ones with the main appearances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straddling_the_atmosphere/pseuds/straddling_the_atmosphere
Summary: The Moonweaver is first--Fjord falling asleep and opening his eyes to a field lit by the unearthly bright glow of the moon. In the center of the field, seated on the tapestry he used to wear around his shoulders, is a familiar purple tiefling shuffling a deck of cards, baubles glittering along his horns and tail.Or: Fjord is god-touched, but Melora got to him first, thank you very much.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord, Fjord/Mollymauk Tealeaf
Comments: 4
Kudos: 112





	god-touched

**Author's Note:**

> from this prompt: Cr prompts, Fjord being absolute catnip for deities. In the sluttiest way possible. The man can’t move in the world for new entities trying to seduce him into being their champion. The wild mother is a sour winner. She’s smug as fuck. 
> 
> which is like. the funniest wording for a prompt ever idk if i can make it as horny as you want it to be tho. also. fjorclay but also some fjolly, as a treat

The Moonweaver is first--Fjord falling asleep and opening his eyes to a field lit by the unearthly bright glow of the moon. In the center of the field, seated on the tapestry he used to wear around his shoulders, is a familiar purple tiefling shuffling a deck of cards, baubles glittering along his horns and tail.

Fjord stares and Molly looks up, red eyes gleaming. “Well?” he says. “Come sit.”

“Uh.” Fjord makes his way forward curiously, the grass soft and damp beneath his feet. The moon shines down on Molly like a spotlight and Fjord sits down in front of him. Now that he’s near, he can see the cards in Molly’s hands are the same ones Jester now has.

Molly gives him a slanted grin, pointed little fangs peaking out. “Draw a card,” he says and Fjord does so, shivering when Molly’s fingers brush against his.

He flips the card over and Molly hums. “The moon,” he says, tipping his head back to look up at it. The light bathes Molly, giving him an ethereal glow. “A good card.” He looks at Fjord again, tilting his head. “But not for you, is it?”

“I...”

“It could’ve been, I think. If I hadn’t gone so soon.” He taps Fjord’s nose gently and Fjord scrunches it. “You imprint, you know. Always asking about my swords, about why I prayed. I think the Moonweaver would’ve gotten you had we had a little more time.

Fjord swallows. “Molly...”

Molly gives him another smile, something sad and longing in it. “I got you at least a little. That fancy little sword of yours is half mine, you know.”

“Yeah, I...when I lost the falchion, I lost...”

Molly watches him and Fjord swallows again.

“I’m glad,” he says quietly. “That the Star Razor is a little bit you.”

“The Moonweaver is happy to hear that,” he says, tipping Fjord’s chin up with his finger. “She might not have you, but you’ve always looked good under the moonlight.” Fjord feels his cheeks go hot, and his ears pin back, and when he wakes up, the sight of Molly’s pointed teeth and and curved lips takes a long time to fade from his mind.

The others are a little less subtle, and a lot more bold. Pelor sends him a dream made of light, so bright it nearly hurts, beckoning him with the power to destroy Uk’otoa once and for all. Melora’s vines crawl up Fjord’s arms and Fjord shakes his head, waking up to the sun shining bright in the sky and Caduceus’s face hovering over him in concern.

“‘m fine,” he says, voice croaky, blinking away the leftover brightness. Caduceus leaves him be, but Fjord can feel his eyes on him throughout the day.

During a thunderstorm, the Storm Lord tempts him with lightning crackling up his skin, leaving him dizzy and electrified, until the Wildmother cocoons him in water, cool and forgiving, the ocean calming his racing heart. 

Fjord says no over and over again, as the Raven Queen sends tempts him with feathers, soft against his skin, the All-Hammer promises strength beyond his wildest dreams.

He wakes up sweating and trembling more often than not and Caduceus often fixes him tea, though he doesn’t ask. 

“You’ll tell me if it gets bad, yeah?” Caduceus asks and Fjord nods.

“She’s...um. I think She’s protecting me. So it’s fine.”

Caduceus nods slowly, but Fjord goes still as he presses his hand to Fjord’s forehead, palm cool against his overheated skin. There’s a whisper and Fjord closes his eyes as the healing warmth of the Wildmother’s magic settles in his skin, and he leans into the touch helplessly. Caduceus draws his thumb down Fjord’s cheek. 

“Just in case,” he whispers, and Fjord opens his eyes, catching as something flashes in Caduceus’s before he looks away and drops his hand. Fjord feels abruptly cold without it.

That night, when he goes to sleep, he dreams of a city, bustling and busy. He stands in the middle of the street, and across from him he can see distinctive pink hair.

“Caduceus!” he yells, but the figure doesn’t turn. He tries to push through the crowd but it thickens, and he struggles.

 _Ask for help,_ a voice whispers and Fjord opens his mouth to ask the Wildmother. _Ah, not her. She can’t help you in a place such as this. Look around, young one. Do you see nature here?_

Fjord swallows. “Who are you?”

There’s a laugh. _I go by many names. I help cities and communities._

Ahead of him, he can see Caduceus looking around in confusion, so out of place where there’s nothing that grows, where trees don’t bend their branches for him, where fungi don’t creep up his breastplate and lichen don’t make his hair glow. 

_He’s a wild one, isn’t he? I can help you tame him. I can help you make him yours._

Fjord stares at Caduceus, flushing at the idea of Caduceus being something to _tame,_ something to push to his knees, to hold close and keep.

 _Leave him, Erathis,_ another voice says, a familiar one, one he’s heard in meditations and dreams and communes. _You know it to be an impossible task. This one is mine and you know it. I claimed them both long before you ever could._

 _Sometimes,_ Erathis says with a put upon sigh. _I wish you’d learn how to share._

_Maybe someday, darling. But that day is not this one._

Fjord wakes with a gasp and rolls over immediately, grunting in surprise when he sees Caduceus right next to him. 

“You okay?” Caduceus whispers, blinking up at him, and Fjord goes tongue-tied immediately, remembering the way Erathis had said, _don’t you want to tame him? don’t you want him to be yours?_

He rolls back onto his back. “Yeah,” he says, throat thick. “’m fine.” 

There’s a pause, then a warm, soft hand curls around his wrist, and a comforting breeze curls around them both, matronly and warm. Fjord slowly relaxes.

 _He is yours as you are both mine,_ Melora says softly, a proud lilt to her voice. _You only need to reach out and take._

Fjord, eyes closed, turns his hand in Caduceus’s grip and grasps it, fingers tangling together, heart in his throat. Seconds, minutes, _hours_ later, Fjord feels an answering squeeze, and he drifts off again, a smile on his face. He has time. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me @ tomasortega on tumblr for rambling about critical role, podcasts, and just like. whatever ive decided to hyperfixate on at the moment.


End file.
